


Medicine

by ArtisticRainey



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 15:50:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5133316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtisticRainey/pseuds/ArtisticRainey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Virgil is sick. His brothers try to make him feel better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Medicine

There is nothing adorable about being sick. You don’t believe me? Here’s two words for you: _both_ and _ends_. That is how sick I was. That is how much you don’t want to know about it.

I was a mess, and I do mean a _mess_. Virgil Tracy, the strong one, the reliable one, the mediator, the one who’s always in control – unable to control even my own… Well, the less said about that, the better.

Lying in bed, feeling entirely miserable, I kept staring at the ceiling. My stomach rolled and cramped. _Do I need to run? No. Not right now…_ And that was my lot in life for two days. _It’s probably a 48 hour bug_ , John had said, nodding sagely. _Wow, thanks for the update! That really makes me feel better._ I wasn’t normally that rude but, I think you can agree, some situations warrant it.

To his credit, John – appearing in my bedroom as a disembodied head – did not scowl, nor tut nor flick his hologram off in a rage. Instead, he just smiled. _Feel better soon, brother_.

Even with guilt adding to my feelings of woe, I fell asleep then. When I woke up, Kayo was sitting by my bed. She said hello with her trademark folded-arm hand wave.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

I just _looked_ at her. I mean, I hadn’t seen my face, but I was pretty sure I looked how I felt.

“Right, right,” she said with a tinkling laugh. “I understand.”

Not wanting to be rude, I didn’t ask her why she was sitting at my bedside. Not being a complete moron – and in fact being one of the smartest people I know – Kayo sense the question.

“There’s been a call,” she said.

The bottom fell out of my stomach – this time, nothing to do with the sickness.

“Oh no,” I said, swallowing against my rising nausea. “Who’s flying Two?”

Kayo gave me a sympathetic smile.

“Gordon.”

Had I been a lesser man, I may have cried at that news. But, sick as I was, I still managed to hold it together. There was no doubt that Gordon could _handle_ Two. It was the way he did it that bothered me. Images of Two doing flips and corkscrew rolls in the air, I winced.

“Don’t worry,” Kayo said. “He was well warned before he left – not to mention that John’s watching. He’s poised to override the controls at even the slightest of course deviations.”

It would never come to that, I knew. Gordon might have been a joker but he would _never_ jeopardise a mission…

The next thing I knew, darkness had enveloped the villa and I was alone again. I sat up but immediately regretted it as my head swam. I fell back against the pillows. As I did, the room lit up blue and John’s face swam into view.

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

I closed my eyes again and brought a hand up to rub my temples.

“John, were you watching me sleep?”

“Yes,” he said.

His voice was so dead-pan, so _John_ , that I just sighed.

“Do you realise how creepy that is?” I asked.

“No.” Again, the answer was straight-laced.

I resisted the urge to flick his hologram off.

“Anyway, I was told I had to keep an eye on you,” he continued, completely disregarding my irritation. “There’s a…” - he clearly had to think hard for his next word - “ _surprise_ for you. I’ll send them in now.”

“Send who in? What?”

His hologram flickered and disappeared. After a mere few seconds, my bedroom door flew open and the light flicked on.

“Well, well, well! The patient is awake!”

That was Gordon. Then there was another sound. Was that a… _horn?_

I pulled myself upright in bed. Immediately I wished I hadn’t.

“What the _heck_?”

Gordon and Alan had burst into the room but they looked nothing like the brothers I knew. Gordon had pasted a thick black moustache onto his upper lip, with matching bushy eyebrows. Stranger still, he was wearing thick white gloves and had a fake cigar perched between two fingers. But for once in his life, Gordon was not the strangest creature in the pantomime of my bedroom.

Alan was wearing a _wig_. A curly red-blond one. And he had his eyes crossed. And he was carrying an old-fashioned rubber bicycle horn.

They were being Groucho and Harpo Marx. _Groucho and Harpo Marx_. I reached out for my communicator.

“John! How could you do this to me?”

John’s hologram appeared, his face complete straight. And yet. He was wearing…an Alpine hat? It even had a little feather on the side. _Is he being Chico?_ I had never felt such betrayal.

“You too?” I asked.

John’s expression didn’t change.

“What?”

Before we could talk any more, Gordon plucked up my wrist to check my pulse and was looking at his watch.

“Well, he’s either dead or my watch has stopped,” he said.

My eyes felt like they were going to pop right out of their sockets as Alan nodded, eyes still crossed, and honked his horn. He was flitting around Gordon, doing his best to stay in character and not laugh.

“Gordon, what the –”

Gordon threw down my wrist and got down on one knee.

“Virgil,” he said, his fake cigar how between his teeth. “I have a confession to make. I’m a horse doctor. But marry me and I’ll never look at another horse again!”

More honking from Alan. There was even a tiny smile from John.

Then Gordon was on his feet again. He turned to Alan.

“Open your mouth and say ‘ah.’”

Alan opened his mouth but no sound came out.

“Louder!”

No sound.

“ _Louder_!”

In disgust, he went to walk away. Then, as if reading from a script John piped up.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

I shook my head. Acting was not Johnny’s strong suit.

“I’m going to get my ears checked!” Gordon said.

There was a pause for a moment. John mouthed an ‘oh’ as Gordon cast the floating blue hologram a stern glare.

“You’re not deaf,” he said, wooden as anything, “that’s just him.”

I closed my eyes as Alan started honking the horn again.

“What the hell is happening in my life?” I cried.

As my brothers were capering around, I glanced past them. And in the door stood Scott, arms folded and an enormous smile on his face.

“You,” I said. “You probably put them up to this!”

Scott shrugged but the mischief in his eyes said it all.

“Not exactly,” he said. “‘Quote me as being misquoted.’”

I fell back against my pillows and sighed. I looked at John.

“Him too?” I asked.

John nodded.

“Him too.”

At that moment, I truly understood the phrase, ‘If you can’t beat them, join them.’ So I sat up again.

“I’ve had a perfectly wonderful evening,” I said, “but this wasn’t it!”

Gordon fell into giggles. Alan was honking his horn. Scott was laughing and so was I. John just looked confused. But I felt a little better. And another pearl of wisdom fell into place. I finally understood why my brothers were behaving the way they were.

Laughter _is_ the best medicine, after all.


End file.
